


A Free Pass to His Heart

by Abyssiniana



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, Gift, Hunk is mentioned, M/M, Matt is supportive in his own way, Mutual Pining, PINING KEITH, SHEITH - Freeform, Songfic, broklance, fare inspector!Shiro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 11:26:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15169721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abyssiniana/pseuds/Abyssiniana
Summary: So it's my lovelygirlfriend'sbirthday today! This is a little drabble based on something we thought up together, based offthis song.Happy birthday, sweetie! Love you so so much__«Nothing else got Keith’s heart going the way the fare inspector did.»





	A Free Pass to His Heart

**Author's Note:**

>   
> __  
> «Pois um mero trajecto  
>  No meu caso concreto, é já o destino »  
> 

In the vast, plain desert highway, the sky just shying away from the laziness of the night to welcome an equally slow morning, the boy at the bus stop would know when the vehicle approached from a mile away. It would be the only moving thing in the dead extension of land, canyons and the occasional cactus. Hard to miss.

 

Waiting was the worst part. Knowing what to expect was terrible too, a threat of combustion inside his chest, a ticking bomb with obliterating inevitability while simultaneously craving for the explosion. No one would believe him, if he were to share his purpose for such mindless early-rising when classes began at nine. It was hard enough to dismiss his parents’ incisive questions when he was being accused of leaving home too early and returning too late in the evening to spend any time with his family. With the promise of being home on time for dinner, he dodged that bullet.

 

As for his predicament. How to put it…

 

He didn’t really have a place to be this early, but he had someone to see. Kind of like a date. But not quite.

 

It was  _ nothing _ like a date, really, just an intentional detouring of both time and space, a slight manipulation of the fate that was already written in the stars, so that he could see  _ him _ .

 

It would be sort of a date if the other party was aware of his intentions. But he didn’t. He couldn’t know.

 

_ Alright,  _ **_freeze frame_ ** _. That fidgety eighteen-year-old boy looking like he’s about to take a ride to the gallows? That's me. You're probably wondering how I ended up in this situation. _

 

It began with a sleepover at Lance’s. He was reluctant about accepting the invitation at first; it had every variable aligned to be a total disaster, but it had gone well within what was expected. He met Hunk for the first time there. He was a nice guy who served as an arbitrate between the big and ever-clashing personalities of Leo and Scorpio. He made sweet and savory treats, kept the competition healthy and Keith had actually had fun. The next day, however, a call from his mother demanded his early presence back home. Something about his dad being a dumb fuck who broke his arm while trying to fix the satellite dish on the rooftop, in the middle of the night. He could hear his dad’s chuckles on the other side of the connection. It was a funny story, the old man promised, but for the time being, Keith would be needed to help at the diner owned by the Koganes.

 

From Lance’s sketchy looking neighborhood, he caught the bus at 8:30AM and that was when he learned, first-hand, what it meant to be stabbed in the heart.

 

How dramatic. To be truthful, that was the moment his romanticized death made him realize that life was worth living and that was all due to the six foot four bulk of pure certified  _ Wagyu  _ beef in a tight uniform shirt with the Garrison Transportations logo who stood right in front of him. A name tag identified the living descendant of Apollo as “Shirogane”, which confirmed the Japanese heritage hinted at by the angle of his stormy eyes and the sweet tan of his skin tone. The framing of his vision had the quality of a dream with the blurry vignette zooming in to the ticket inspector only.

 

He smiled and - remember that metaphor about Keith having died upon setting eyes on this man? It was a lie; he honestly felt the weight of the dirt being shoveled over him to cover his lifeless corpse when he saw the breathtaking smile thrown at him - Keith forced himself to rush the purchase of the ticket and move past the man, choosing the farthest seat available on the bus, heart threatening to rip through his chest, bone and flesh alike, in a gory mess of one of the many versions of love at first sight.

 

**_E o meu peito séptico, por um pica de elétrico_ **

**_Voltou a sonhar_ **

 

Back to the desert morning, weeks later, Keith yawned into his scarf, nuzzling on the soft wool. The accessory wouldn’t be necessary with the progression of the day, but with the tickles of a chilling night still lingering in the morning, he was glad he had remembered to wrap it around his neck. Rock songs with dulled emotion spent by time and repetition, erupted from his earphones, but he wasn’t paying attention to them. Sliding his smartphone from his back pocket, the digital watch marked 6:54AM. Anytime now.

 

True to years-long routine, the horizon was invaded by a single shadow, approaching at an excruciating slow pace. The bus was certainly vacant, as no one other than Keith had the motivation to get up this early.

 

What could he say.

 

Nothing else got Keith’s heart going the way the fare inspector did.

 

**_Que triste fadário e que itinerário tão infeliz_ **

**_Cruzar meu horário_ **

**_Com o dum funcionário de um trem da carris_ **

 

A vibrating text distracted Keith from his daily after-class ogling. Sitting in the back of the bus, tucked between his friend Lance and the window, he was focusing on the way Shiro countered the wagging motions of the bus and easily balanced on his boots, punching the ticket of an old lady who seemed to be acquainted with him. The fit of those pants was amazing, dark fabric just slightly high on the waist, held up by a thin leather belt, and  _ oh _ so wonderfully squeezing his thighs and amazingly round ass. If those muscled legs had the power to hold a man that big, he wondered what they’d do to him.  _ Wowee. _

 

But a text, yes. He had received one.

 

Deviating his already sinful eyes from the forbidden fruit at great cost, he unlocked his phone with a practiced combination of numbers and read the message from… Lance, who sat right next to him with the widest grin, eyebrows wiggling incredibly fast on his big forehead. What was the meaning of this? He looked back down at the screen to meet the suggestive tone of the words:

 

_ You’re eyefucking him again. _

 

The punch was sharp and imminent, and even though Lance saw it coming he still complained obnoxiously loud, rubbing his upper arm in the area of impact. Keith grunted through his teeth before settling back onto his seat.

 

“OW, THAT HURT!”

 

“You fucking twig.” He spat, crossing his arms over his chest and refusing to as much as address Lance for the remaining of the trip.

 

So what if he was looking at Shiro, was it illegal?! Hopefully his childish stalking hadn’t gotten to that point just yet. Did he have to address a written letter to the Syndicate of Angels asking for permission to lay eyes upon their lost property? Maybe they shouldn’t have an angel with a ripped body running amok, tempting more than just a glance, it was their fault for teasing his poor mortal heart with everything he ever dreamed for in a man.

 

To be honest, the whole concept of Shiro’s existence was hazardous for Keith’s own health.

 

He was a skeptic, always had been. Love was a word in several song lyrics, an excuse to either do something stupid or for the French to die for. Keith had gone from zero to sixty in five seconds, from an independent thinker to having his raison-d’etre shaped by the walking epitome of his fantasies.

 

**_Ninguém acredita no estado em que fica_ **

**_O meu coração_ **

**_Quando o 7 me apanha_ **

**_Até acho que a senha me salta da mão_ **

 

What Keith dreaded the most was the evening. It was his last chance to dwell on his platonic love until the next morning, and for a teenager just shy of adulthood, that was still a lot of time. The bus came to a stop - the final, but not for him, it was just the end for Shiro and on a level, for him as well. Now off to detach himself of everything but the thoughts of a man who could never have, until only the next morning, when every piece of the puzzle of his life would regain some sense in the presence of another.

 

Lovely.

 

“Phewww! That’s a wrap for today! You’re coming?” The honey-eyed colleague who always accompanied Shiro in his ticket punching routine asked, already looking over his shoulder from outside the vehicle, stretching his lean body as if he had done anything else but to animatedly chat with the driver while Shiro did all the work. A knowing smirk crossed his features when Shiro didn’t move, his large body leaning over the pole..

 

“Yeah, I’ll… I’ll take the bus home today.” He lied. Why was he lying? Why did Keith know he was lying? This was the stop he always abandoned the bus on. He always left with his colleague and he always waved goodbye with his left hand. Keith’s heart buzzed like the neon sign of the bar they were parked next to, suddenly becoming self-aware of the redness of his face. “See you tomorrow, Matt.”

 

“Yeah, right.” His friend was dismissive, an eyebrow quirked as he waved him and the bus driver off. “Remember, safety above all. Go get him, tiger.” Finger guns and a wink. 

 

“ _ Goodbye _ .” Shiro exhaled with heavy emphasis, shaking his head with a bashful giggle as the doors slid closed and the bus resumed its course, the whole structure jolting upon losing the smoothness of the asphalt to the harsh soil of the dusty desert.

 

Keith gulped, fidgeting uncomfortably and doing whatever he could to ignore the fact that the inspector had just sat across from him. The next stop would be his house, in about fifteen minutes at the current velocity, but time, time became such a futile and relative thing when Shiro captured his lower lip into his mouth with his tongue, gently kneading it with his teeth as he chewed on a few words before spitting them out.

 

“Hey there.”

 

Uh? Who, him? Keith mentally pointed at himself, before looking up to see that, yes, one hundred percent Japanese beef was talking to  _ him _ .

 

Besides the bus driver, so far away from them he seemed to belong to another planet, there was no one else around so unless Shiro had an imaginary friend ghosting around him, then yes, Keith was being blessed with the opportunity of a direct dialogue beyond “good morning, your ticket please” and “thank you, have a nice day”.

 

A dialogue.

 

With Shiro.

 

_ Holy cow, was he even capable of keeping a cohesive verbal conversation anymore? _

 

His heart stilled at the proximity between them, knees almost bumping together, breath being held for longer than it had to but while Shiro was around he was underwater; if he were to inhale, he would drown and somehow that was more inviting than to go on living a pitiful earthbound life without a taste of the lips of the unknowing siren that was this man.

 

_ Oh how he would love to kiss this man. _

 

“Hey.” He barely managed back, trembling lips bringing out a shaky voice that made him sound like a terrified deer. A smile hung from the corners of the ticket inspector’s mouth, his eyes delaying in taking in Kogane’s features.

 

Or so it seemed, Keith’s own eyes roamed wherever they could, anywhere else but into Shiro’s. If he were to dive into the electric grey of those eyes there would be no turning back.

 

Who was he kidding, there was no turning back from the moment he first saw Shiro.

 

“I was wondering…” The older man began.

 

Was he going to call Keith out for the obsessively stalking behaviour? Was he filling a goddamned restraining order?! How did he know? Had Keith been too obvious? Was the power/excuse of circumstance not on Keith’s side any longer?

 

Dear God, a life without the compromise of catching a particular bus seemed so  _ pointless _ all of a sudden.

 

“Am I in trouble?” As pitiful as he sounded in his head, he managed to exteriorize his fear and make even more of a fool of himself. Shut the fuck  _ up _ , Keith! Were it possible in a metaphysical plane, Keith wished he could melt into the uncomfortable seat and disappear from the realm of Earth.

 

“Huh? N-No! Nothing of the sort, you’re fine!” Shiro hurried to explain, gesturing expressively. “I-I mean, if it’s not too weird...” Shiro scratched the back of his neck, a sheepish gesture to go with his reddening features. “This whole approach is probably seeming very ominous to you. It’s just… You’re… uh. Cute.” A nervous chuckle followed and the bus might’ve come to a stop, but there was no telling for sure in the dreamy dimension Keith had been shoved into by the sheer power of words.

  
  


**_Pois na carreira desta vida vã_ **

 

Had he… heard right? Surely he had hallucinated. Keith had to lean in to hear the other speak over the loud motor, his heart fluttering like the wings of the flying desert bugs who met their fate in the windshield of the fast bus, victims to the vehicle’s speed and their own carelessness. Turns out Shiro was the widest windshield in Arizona and he had just smashed so hard against it, head first, his little lamentable insect life nothing short of blessed for such a honorific final death. 

 

“Would you like to go out some time?”

 

**_Freeze frame_ ** _. And that is how I earned a free pass to the heart of the fare collector. _

  
  
  


**_Mais nada me dá a pica que o pica do sete me dá_ **


End file.
